Sarky
by Ada Kensington
Summary: Second-to-oldest, and therefore also old as hell.
1. Chapter One

"Sarky"

by Ada Kensington

Author's Note:  This is sort of a prequel to "Order of Draconis." But don't bother reading that, as I'm going to totally revise that story and continue with it after I've finished with this one. Hopefully, this will fulfil its purpose in giving me a sense of direction with the Order of Draconis. As you may notice, I've borrowed this from the flashback scene of the first story, but altered it quite a bit. The credits for this still apply as to the Order of Draconis – but starting afresh, and all that jazz…  * sighs. * I actually own none of the characters in this chapter, now and future chapters. All you see and recognise as belonging to JK Rowling the Great, belongs to her. All the others you don't recognise – don't. 

Happy Reading : ) !!!

He realised that he was glaring at them. 

The cold, biting, winter wind knifed into him. It even whipped up his thick, black, winter robes - occasionally, exposing him to an unwelcome icy gust of wind. His long, thin fingers were becoming blue with the cold, yet he continued to pull mechanically at the roots of the plants, his fingers scraping through the frost-hardened dirt. He was long past caring, and he knew it was petty, but all he wanted to do, was to end the short, yet happy lives of these little plants.

"They just…grow," he thought bitterly, "they don't experience _true_ pain. They take their nourishment from the Earth and it's products, they grow, they reproduce, they die". 

_It was all so wonderfully simple_…

Then he smiled suddenly, a smile totally without humour that did not reach his cold, dark eyes, 

_"The only pain is at the end…"_

He tugged sharply at another root, slicing his finger. He watched in a rather detached sort of way as the blood ran smooth, dark and rich – dribbling onto the ground, spattering softly on the dirt. It was quite a deep cut. Surprising, in a way. The little plant had managed to return the favour – well at least some of the pain. He laughed softly.

"It was a brave effort, little plant," he sighed. "But I am afraid that I am quite used to pain." 

He paused, taking in the limp form held in his hands. "You could almost say that over the long years, I have built up an immunity to it".

He threw the carcass of the aconite plant into his basket, along with all of the others he had uprooted earlier, and performed a rather elementary healing charm. He watched as the wound slowly closed up, the white lips of skin at the edge of the wound closing, merging together as one. 

After a while, he carried on rooting. He had run out of the plant in his storage, and was lucky enough to have a sufficient, natural supply in the Forbidden Forest itself. Earlier in the day, he had gained permission from Dumbledore to go out into the forest and Dumbledore had asked politely if he wished Hagrid and Fang to accompany him. He had declined. He didn't wish that great oaf Hagrid and his huge, hairy, slobbering, mongrel anywhere near him - especially when he was going to do such a careful job as uprooting aconite. He could just imagine Hagrid accidentally trampling on them, or Fang digging them all up, ripping them to shreds and rendering them useless. So he came out alone, as he always did.

The forest was always beautiful in winter – cold and unmerciful – but beautiful nonetheless. The snow clinging delicately to the branches of the trees, the frost making pretty little patterns on the ground and the sky a clear bright blue, with no clouds in sight. The faint trickle of water hidden under frozen brooks and burns, the forest sleepy and quiet. The life of the forest in a peaceful torpor in their burrows and dens under the frost-hardened floor of the forest.  But the forest would bloom again. That was for certain. Underneath the frosty layers above, there, lying deep beneath the surface, the beauty was waiting to burst forth once more – all the flora and fauna would once again unleash their beauty that he so loved and admired.  Uncorrupted and pure in all it's essence.  It was there. Just waiting to burst forth once more. And in time – would do so.  The thought was oddly comforting. 

The beauty of nature was something that had always astounded him. 

Back as early as he could remember, he was outside studying plants and animals, taking in their habits and contours and watching them with intense interest, noting their little ways, watched them foraging for food.

When he was a little older and able to read, his mother had gradually introduced him to books on the dark arts and potion making – and not without motive. As predicted, he had taken to them like a fish to water, reading and studying, taking in knowledge. Suddenly, he started to enjoy this new-found property of nature, and at this tender age, discovered that if you could control nature – you could hold the whole world in your grasp.  Potions that could change the way one physically looked, potions that could improve your mental prowess. Poisons that could kill, maim and distort. Cures to heal broken bones, augment one's eyesight or hearing abilities. Curses to kill.  With these powers, why couldn't one play God. With the help of these potions and powers, why, you could change, improve and surpass Mother nature's original intent. This, to him, was what it meant to be a wizard.

He was soon brewing potions that were extremely advanced for his age group. As he later found out when he went to Hogwarts, most of the other children didn't even know how to brew a simple memory-loss potion, never mind some of the more complicated potions he had been brewing at home. He also – thanks to his mother - arrived at Hogwarts knowing more curses and hexes than half of the third years, and could certainly hold his own in a duel - thanks to the abusive training his older brother had subjected him to at home. 

He had suffered and suffered at home with his family. Beaten and abused by his older brother. Screamed, sneered and smirked at by his Death Eater mother, later managing to fight back a little, and gaining ever more skill in cutting retorts – usually repaid by a heavy-handed curse, or a similarly heavy-handed physical retort.  But he never mentioned this. Never. Alone in the dormitory, or in his draughty bedroom at the Manor, he would bottle up all the pain and agony like he bottled up all his wonderful potions. 

He had suffered more still in all his years at Hogwarts, starting his gradual descent on the slippery slopes to damnation; taunted by James Potter and his sidekicks, losing the only friend he truly loved to hold dear, Lilly, and his Slytherin gang - overcome with hatred and ambition - were no shoulder to cry on. He had hexed, brewed and studied his way through Hogwarts, gained twelve OWL's, was made a prefect, received special honours and mentions in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts, was the representative of Slytherin house…

"..and all for what," he whispered, unconsciously tearing apart the little aconite growth he had just so fastidiously uprooted, the syrupy liquid bleeding from the now torn and bruised leaves, running, squeezing through the gaps in his tightly clenched fists.  Suffocating and consuming  – through all the trauma and torment, all the energy and life was extracted.  And it would never be able to bloom again. 

His body was shaking, shaking with the force of the silent, tearless sobbing – his mind filled with a hatred, the slow burning hatred that had been festering inside since he could remember, a hatred for his whole, ruined life and everything that he had ever stood for – everything he had ever believed in. His fists clenched tighter still, his nails ripping into the tender flesh of the palms of his hands, drawing yet more blood, but going unnoticed – the plant now limp in his unrelenting grip. 

His body was now shaking violently, his robes sodden and bedraggled, on his knees in the snow. He was breathing heavily, the coldness of the air turning his breath into a visible, misty vapour. The hate rose in a surging wave, coming up rapidly - and all alone in the forest, he was powerless to stop it. He raised his head and screamed to the sky, a lament wracked with raw emotion, the cry filled with agony and wrought with despair, echoing through the trees - but lost.

He turned his face to the sky and could feel the tears welling up behind his dark eyes – the tears he had held in for god only knew how long. Slowly, silently - they began to trickle down his frostbitten cheeks in a slow smooth stream, tears as futile as his miserable existence. The anger slowly burned itself out again, his senses returning gradually – but his dignity shattered once again.

"Forgive me…" 

For a long time – he didn't know how long – he stayed slumped on the frosty earth, his previous task all but forgotten, feeling his silent tears freezing on his cheeks in the icy winter wind, the snow penetrating his robes, soaking him to the skin – the cold making him shake uncontrollably…

He lay down in the frosty layer of snow, numb to all sense or reason and softly closed his eyes, feeling the tears begin dry and his consciousness slowly drifting. For after death, there is no pain.

"Maybe freezing out here wouldn't be such a bad thing…" he thought faintly before his tiredness overcame him, and he surrendered to the dark.

****************************************************************************

He was awoken by an unwelcoming icy blast of wind, whipping up stinging flakes of snow into his face. He opened his eyes blearily, his face numb with cold and his head pounding in agony. His robes were wet through and sodden with melted snow, were chilling to the bone. The sky had turned from a clear, pale blue to a lucid electric blue, with streaks of vibrant pink and orange, and patches of deep, soothing red dazzling across the horizon and contrasting beautifully with the silhouettes of the distant trees. 

_"Must be near dark," _he thought muzzily. _"For the love of Merlin, I can't even die properly."_

He attempted to rise from his rather vulnerable position in the snow, but his limbs didn't seem to be operating. 

_"Must be the cold…" _

Crack.

A sharp noise snapped him out of his reverie, and still true to his basic instincts, he whipped his head round suddenly, roughly near the origin of the noise. He stayed still, frozen to the spot, his heart thumping loudly in his chest, not daring to move or breathe in case he alerted the creature to his position.  After years of working at Hogwarts, he had been unfortunate enough to have heard Dumbledore's speech about the dangers of the Forbidden Forest far too many times for his liking. However, not once had Dumbledore spoken any untruth in that speech.

_"Can't be a Centaur," he reasoned, "can't climb trees. Werewolf ?  No. Not until next week…"_

He looked a little closer and saw that the branches of a large pine tree about a foot away from him were swaying… a little more than the slight breeze should have caused them to…

Crack.

Breathing deeply, his chest rising and falling quickly, he reached carefully for his wand inside his robes. He grasped it with his numb fingers and started to sidle towards the pine tree with all the stealth he could muster - all the while keeping his eyes on the branches of the tree, checking for any further signs of movement. 

Crack.

Just before he reached the trunk of the frost covered evergreen, he stopped and crouched down onto the ground, tilting his head sideways in case he could get a glance of the intruder…

Crack. Crack, crack…

His heart leapt into his mouth as he realised that the intruder was tumbling down the branches of the tree. Extremely quickly.  He tried to raise his wand, but there was a swiftly growing shadow bearing down on him at a great speed, and there would only be half a second before it…

_"Oh for the love of Merlin…"_

****************************************************************************

He woke up a few minutes later - feeling nauseous, his eyes bleary and his limbs numb with cold. These weren't new, he decided. Also, the thumping, splitting headache had returned in full force. Again, he made a valiant attempt to move his legs…but they didn't seem to be co-operating at the moment. His arms were aching, his head was spinning, he was on the verge of throwing up and…something, or someone had fallen on top of him from the branches of that tree. And there were voices, seeming to come from far away. In his state, he strained his ears to make out what exactly it was they were saying…

"YOSHI ! Oh my God, you've killed him !!!" one whispered in a plummy drawl.

"Quick, I'll run back and get a shovel," said another, in a low, rumbling bass. "No-one needs to know."

_"Hmph, well that sounds promising," he thought scathingly._

"Will you all be quiet !!!," hissed another. "Of course I haven't _killed_ him."

"Yeah, look, John. He _is_ breathing," said the owner of the first voice.

"Ahhh… Well in that case, scratch the shovel," said the other man.

"Although…he does look pretty bad," intoned a female voice.

"Yes," drawled the first. "Let's put him out of his misery."

"Here's a stick. Go on, Yoshi…" rumbled the other man.

_"Hmph…how apt," he thought bitterly. "How fitting. Put him out of his misery. Yes, let's…"_

Then suddenly and unwittingly, his body squirmed, uncomfortable with the freezing chill and he immediately sat up, his head reeling with sudden change of position. His eyes opened and he took in four horror-stricken faces, staring wide-eyed with their jaws to the floor. A young man, pale, with sandy brown hair and icy blue eyes, gaped in astonishment.  Standing next to him was a huge, broad-shouldered man, with skin the colour of deep mahogany, with a scrubby short, black beard and shoulder length dreadlocks to match – unashamedly gawked at him. A young woman looking concernedly at him with watery-blue eyes and smooth, brown hair scraped back into a pony tail, and…a face leered down at him, fiery, glowing red eyes burning in the porcelain-white face, large fangs protruding from its upper lip. He could feel it's hot breath from close range against his frozen skin and its hands outstretched - 

"Get away from me!" he screamed hoarsely, shielding his head with his hands.

The creature made no visible attempt to move, or to finish him off. Instead it took a step back, aligning itself with the other strangers, startled.

"Oh! God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you," the ember-eyed demon said softly. "Here…"

The apparition raised his hands to his face, removing…removing its mask with a slight sucking noise as it came free from its face. He suddenly realised (with waves of embarrassment accompanying it,) what he had been trying to run from. Before him stood not the fiery-eyed demon – but a handsome young man, much the same age as himself. He was dressed in a heavy cloak and strange clothes not native of the country, but rather Eastern…Oriental, even. His long, raven black hair fluttered in the bitter breeze, his eyes a sharp, vivid green and flecked with brown were filled with quiet concern. A sheepish smile settled on his pale visage – almost as white, he noted – as his porcelain mask…

"I'm terribly sorry. I'm afraid I fell on your head…" he pointed over to the pine tree, where there were considerably fewer branches and the snow had now been shaken off. The stranger spoke with a slight accent, sometimes muddling his syllables slightly. He was now convinced that the stranger was foreign.

"…and William here, he dressed your wounds for you," he said, pointing to the sandy haired man. "Your hands were ripped to shreds."

Severus, again aware that he had a pair of hands, brought them up swiftly to his face, staring at them. The stranger had, indeed, dressed his wounds. And quite well too. There were neatly wrapped, white linen, bandages covering the lacerations on the palms of his hands. He turned his gaze back to the stranger, dumbfounded.

"You're welcome," William drawled, smiling widely.

He tried to rise from the ground, but failed miserably. His legs buckled underneath him, and his head reeled once again – still dizzy from the cold.

"It's okay, you just sit there and rest," whispered the green-eyed man. "We're going to take you back to the den to get you fixed up." 

His mind, still unable to take in the day's events, was screaming at him. This was not real. Hallucinations, or some sort of delusion, perhaps.  But Snape forced himself to speak, the words coming from his mouth in a croaking whisper.

"W-who are you?" 

The strangers smiled warmly and the green-eyed man knelt down in the snow next to him, removing the cloak from his shoulders and wrapping it tightly around his frozen body. He hadn't realised how cold he was until he felt the soothing warmth of the cloak shielding him from the icy breath of the wind. He felt the stranger's arms scoop him up out of the snow, lifting him as if he weighed no more than a feather and he stood up upright on the ground. He rose shakily to his feet, steadily regaining his balance, the stranger supporting him with his arm wrapped around his shoulders.

"Are you okay? Can you walk?"

Severus mumbled in acknowledgement. The stranger stretched out his hand and smiled.

"I'm Yoshimitsu - but please spare the formalities, and just call me Yoshi".

_"Hmmm…Yoshi…the one who nearly killed me…" he thought faintly._

He shook the stranger's hand numbly. Then, the sandy-haired man stepped forward offering his pale hand. 

"Well, I'm William, as you already know," he stated matter-of-factly, "but call me Will. I like that a lot better," he smiled.

_"Sandy-haired…dressed my wounds…Will…" he recalled._

Then the large…no…_huge_ man strode forward and thrust out a large hand, wearing an equally large grin wrinkling his mahogany brow, showing rows of gleaming white teeth.

"'M name's John. John Andrews," he rumbled gleefully. "Nice to meet you."

_"…low voice…oh yes…get a shovel…" he sneered inwardly…"John…"_

And finally, the pretty,young woman stepped forward, holding out her hand firmly, her bright eyes shinning.

"I'm Claire," she said, smiling slightly, although obviously still worried.

_"Oh well…my turn…" he thought._

"'m Snape. Severus Snape," he managed to croak out.

The strangers smiled more broadly still and they started on their way to… "the den".

"Pleased to meet you Severus. Now you just concentrate on keeping walking, and we'll be there in no time," the Yoshi soothed.

He managed to mouth a weak reply, noticing that he was becoming increasingly weaker every minute he remained in the cold, and allowed himself to be whisked away, helpless, to "the den".

They carried on the rest of the journey in silence, Yoshimitsu's nimble feet crunching lightly over the snow - and his own, more sluggish footsteps trudging irregularly beside him. The journey was a blur. His surroundings slipped slowly past his eyes as he concentrated on keeping upright. He felt rather inclined to throw up, but done his best to relieve Yoshi of the obligation. 

He was beginning to feel light headed again, very light headed, in fact. His line of vision became increasingly hazy. The nausea had not worn off, and he was starting to feel…sleepy.

He took a few more steps, and had just enough seconds of consciousness to see the other three figures rushing towards him, and for the second time that day – surrendered to the darkness.

**Did you like? If you did, please, please, please review.  If you didn't , review all the same. Although I don't really care either way for flames, constructive criticism would be better appreciated.**

**Thanks.**

**Ada Kensington.**


	2. Chapter Two

"Sarky"

by Ada Kensington

Author's Note:  This is sort of a prequel to "Order of Draconis." But don't bother reading that, as I'm going to totally revise that story and continue with it after I've finished with this one. Hopefully, this will fulfil its purpose in giving me a sense of direction with the Order of Draconis. As you may notice, in the first chapter, I've borrowed from the flashback scene of the first story, but altered it quite a bit. The credits for this still apply as to the Order of Draconis – but starting afresh, and all that jazz…  * sighs. * I actually own none of the characters in this chapter, now and future chapters. As in previous chapters, all you see and recognise as belonging to JK Rowling the Great, belongs to her. All the others you don't recognise – don't, aka Coin, William, John, Claire and Yoshi.  I wonder if you can guess where some of them are borrowed from.

If you do…don't sue me.

Happy Reading.

"Do you think he's okay…" a voice whispered. "Dunno…" said another strangely familiar voice. "What d'you think, Yoshi ?" 

"Yoshi ?" he thought. "Sounds familiar…" 

Then it hit him…

"YOSHI !" he yelled aloud, throwing himself upright, but only to be forcefully pinned down again by a pair of strong hands. He felt the rush of air upon his face as many pairs of footsteps rushed over to where he was sitting, whirling round and halting. 

"Are you okay, Severus?" a voice inquired desperately. 

Severus, abruptly, opened his eyes and gasped.  He was in a softly lit, warm room.  Round the edges of the room, busy-looking work desks littered with loose sheets of parchment and leaflets and manuals and essays and grimoires of all sorts, clearly dominated the small space. In what was left of the room, old, squashy armchairs - and an extremely well-used oak coffee table, decorated by many similarly well-used mugs and goblets - surrounded a roaring hearth, which had cleverly been cut into the stone of the building.  The slightly blurry faces of Yoshi, John and Claire were gazing down at him, looks of mild astonishment playing across their faces.  

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," breathed John. "We didn't think you were gonna make it there."

Severus, blinked in bewilderment, and wrinkled his head, puzzled.  The screaming headache had gone, and so had the numbness in his limbs – but those seemed to have been replaced by a dull soreness and all round stiffness…  

"W-what ?" he blinked, muzzily.  

Yoshi let out a soft laugh, and John and Claire visibly relaxed, John grinning like a Cheshire cat - Claire running her hand through her hair sighed, happily.

"Don't worry about a thing," soothed Yoshi. "Just you lie down and we'll fix you something to eat, okay?" he said, while slowly lowering him back down to rest upon the squashy, comfortable sofa.

"Something to eat?" he thought, puzzled.  "Oh yes…the forest…" 

For how long, he couldn't have guessed, he had lain in the inhospitable confines of the Forbidden Forest, face down amongst the frost, his frozen body framed by his sodden robes, and minute by minute, had slowly drifted further from consciousness until…

"Yoshi," he seethed suddenly, swinging his legs round over the edge of the sofa, and swiftly sitting up. Both actions had made the three others turn their heads from the hearth, bewildered.  

"How _dare_ he !?" his thoughts screamed at him, "How _dare_ he !" 

"Now, Severus, listen to me…" Yoshi said softly, waving a small silver ladle at him. "You should go back to sleep, we won't be ready for…"

But Severus overrode him. 

"_NO ! You_ listen to _me_," he hissed, pointing repeatedly at Yoshimitsu.  "I will _not_ be taken in and _soothed over_…" the last words riddled with disgust, "…and chided and treated like a child…"

"Fine," Yoshi said slowly, over the ominous crackling of the fire in the hearth. "We can take you back to your home…"

"I do not _want_ to be taken home!!!" he shrieked, suddenly looking quite deranged.  "I don't _want_ to be taken home!!!  I don't _want_ your food, I don't want _these…_" he shrieked, ripping off the bandages William had so carefully wound round his torn and bleeding palms, " …I don't want _this…"_ he screamed, throwing off Yoshi's warm, travelling cloak – in his mind – the thing that had probably saved him from the cold. " …I don't want your warmth, I don't want your kindness, I don't want your chivalry, I don't want your heroism," he snarled, his eyes glinting on the verge of hysteria, "…_and I certainly don't want your pity!!!"_ he screamed, his nails again digging painfully deep into the already tender flesh of his hands.  

He threw himself upwards, and strode towards the door.  Got about halfway…and fell. 

Again, he heard the rushing of footsteps, although, he had to admit, a little more reluctant than the last time…

"…been through a lot.  Poor guy," he heard John murmur.

"_Damn them," _he snarled inwardly. "_Damn them, damn them, damn them and their pity!!!"_

As always, he noticed, Yoshimitsu had reached him first.  He held out a hand for to help him up, his face wrought with worried kindness, and his green eyes smiling, despite his previous outburst.

Suddenly, his heart melted at this visible display of affection.  Not for years, _years_ since he could remember, had anyone showed him the slightest display of kindness.  Not since his days at Hogwarts, and not since Albus Dumbledore, had anyone tried to comfort him, look out for his well-being or ever cared whether he should live or die.  

Severus was reminded vaguely of Lilly…

Hot tears started to leak out of their own accord, stinging his eyes, which were already stained red and sore from the cold.  Lowering his head to the floor, turning, so that Yoshi wouldn't see him cry, tendrils of his long, black hair graced the dull, flagstone floor, silent tears rolling smoothly from his cheeks, were coming thick and fast.  His shoulders trembled softly from his own quiet, private realisation.  

_"You guys, I'd like a moment," Yoshi whispered softly._

John and Claire nodded, and with only an anxious glance from Claire, they swept soundlessly from the room.

"Do you want to sit over at the fire?  It's much more comfortable over there, not to mention warmer," he smiled, indicating the old sofa next to the hearth which he had been lying on only moments ago.

Severus managed a watery nod, and still not willing to face Yoshimitsu, he allowed himself to be led over to the couch, shaking and staring at the floor.  Once they reached the couch, he sank, exhausted, into it's squashy, familiar comfort.  He felt Yoshimitsu sink down beside him.

For a long moment, the two sat in silence, side by side.  The fire in the hearth danced and flickered red and orange and played it's light across their faces, illuminating Yoshimitsu's soft, warm features and reflecting in his unwatching, glittering, green eyes, and accentuating Severus's sharp, pale features, the hollows of his cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes made more prominent than ever.  

The silence between them was not an awkward one - but perhaps - merely a chance to clear the air.  With this revelation of thought, Severus raised his gaze from the floor and turned to face Yoshimitsu, his eyes glittering in the firelight with unshed tears.

"I…I…" he choked.

A slow, warm smile spread over the face of Yoshimitsu, and he felt the slight pressure of a hand placed softly, reassuringly, upon his shoulder.  He sighed deeply and yielded to his kindness. 

"I won't hear of it," Yoshi stated.

"But.  You saved my life…" he started.

"Shh…"

"But…"

"No…"

"I…"

"Silence yourself, Snape," Yoshi said, finally.  "I won't hear another word about it.  And it wasn't just me, you know."

"Yes, I know," he said quietly.  "John and Claire…and Will."  He paused for a moment, thoughtful.  "Where is Will?" he inquired.

Yoshi chuckled slightly.

"He's out with Coin getting some Dwarfish from the villiage.  There's a really good Dwarfish restaurant in Hogsmeade down Octavius Way.  Gimlet's, if I recall…"

"Yes, I know Gimlet's.  I work at Hogwarts," he said, with just a hint of resentment.  "Although I don't know Coin.  Was he there in the forest?" Severus asked.

"No.  He wasn't.  But he does know you," Yoshi grinned.  "Will and Coin have tended you for days…"

_Days…_

"_DAYS!?_" he shrieked.  "H-how could…"

"How could you have been unconscious for so long and, heaven forbid," he laughed softly " miss a few days of work?"  

"I…" he stuttered.

"Well," Yoshi said, matter of factly, "when we first brought you in, you were in a bit of a state.  You were frozen solid.  Turning blue.  Shivering and shaking like nothing on earth.  We put you on this couch," he gestured, "and Coin came tearing into the room with Will, equipped with about ten hot water bottles and a piles of blankets and three tins of soup…"

Severus smiled slightly at that comment, surprised that anyone should go to so much bother.

"…and, well…" Yoshi stopped, and blushed a pleasant shade of crimson.

"Well what?" he asked suspiciously, now eyeing the other man like a wrathful eagle.

"Well, you see, it wasn't _my_ idea.  It was Coin's.  He said that if we didn't get them off, you would freeze to death, even with the fire on…" he trailed off.

The realisation hit him, and he sighed resignedly and shut his eyes.  

"You took my clothes off, didn't you?" he asked, and slouched forward with his head on his hands – knowing full well what Yoshi's answer would be.

"Yes," he said sheepishly, shifting uncomfortably.  "But we didn't look!" he added quickly.

Severus snorted good-naturedly and smiled a little.  His dignity had already been shattered a thousand times these past few days, and this announcement of revelation of his most…intimate…parts, had fallen on deaf ears.  In reality, he just couldn't care less.

"It's alright.  I don't mind," he sighed.  "You could say I'm used to it."

Upon Yoshimitsu's face, there began to spread a slow, sly grin. 

"What, do you mean to say that you're used to people taking your clothes off?" Yoshi asked mockingly.  "I didn't think that the staff of Hogwarts were like that!"

_Cheeky git…_

"Well, you would be too if you'd been celibate for nearly fifteen years," he retorted - and as he did, he felt a little more like himself again.

Yoshi gave a great shout of laughter, and rolled back into the comfort of the sofa, tears rolling down his cheeks.  He looked at Severus incredulously through his glittering eyes, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably with laughter.  

"Severus…" he managed to choke out, breathlessly.  "You are something else."

"Too true," Severus replied, smirking.

At that moment, the suppressed laughter of all the years spewed forth from somewhere deep inside.  Somewhere that had lain untouched, for such a long time, that it had been considered gone or forgotten.  Somewhere, that once upon a time, had been turned cold and hard through years of burnt bridges and dreadful circumstance.  Somewhere, that had now just begun to melt, and in time, would bloom again.

The two men shared this most intimate moment of laughter together for goodness knows how long.  They had laughed so much, over such a silly, irrelevant comment, that the others had poked their heads round the door, wondering what on earth had caused all the hilarity, and had looked upon Severus Snape, astounded, and two other people, who had by that time entered, carrying bags of food, smiled, relieved – all the first witnesses of such a wonderful change.

A moment later, the two men had managed to calm down a little, and the others had gotten round to allocating different meals to different people.  Will had asked Severus politely if he wanted anything to eat.  He had declined, but they had insisted that he take something.  So he had taken a bananna, and slowly nibbled at it, feeling some of his strength returning.

Although he had been a little surprised when he had discovered what they had ordered…

"Rat Gh'ika," munched John, through a mouthful of food.

"Yes," William had replied, grinning a little at Severus's disgusted look. "It's really quite nice."

"Don't knock it till you've tried it," laughed Claire.  "Here…" she held out a rat on a stick, smiling as Severus flinched. "Suck it and see."

"I don't _think _so," he'd sneered.  

"Don't listen to her, Severus," said Coin quietly.  "I wouldn't eat any of that Gh'ika if I were you, anyway.  I don't think you're quite well enough to eat something like that yet."

Severus nodded.  

Coin was, as he had found out earlier, the most remarkable person.  Fifteen years old, but, as John so readily pointed out, "going on forty-five in worldly experience."  With white blonde hair and the most startling golden brown eyes, complete with his quiet tone and calm demeanour, he gave the impression of innocence personified.  But this impression did not last long, as just after the meal of…rat…and something consisting of vegetables for Yoshimitsu, he'd pulled out a packet of cigarettes, lit one up, and had puffed away, looking relieved.

They had asked him if he'd wanted to stay, but he had insisted (with not a small amount of guilt) that he must get back to Hogwarts.  The thought of what Dumbledore would have gone through after one of his staff had been missing for three days was unthinkable.  The guilt slowly wormed its way in again, making him feel uncomfortable.  He resolved to go back to Hogwarts.

Upon hearing this, Yoshi had simply smiled and offered to walk him to the doors.  The others had come to watch him leave, shouting their goodbyes as they watched their new-found friend walk into the distance with Yoshimitsu.

************************************************************************************************************

The two men walked in silence, their footsteps crunching over the snow passing tree after tree, and having to jump a few small brooks.  It seemed, that the den was hidden very deep in the heart of the forest, and that Hagrid, wisely, never ventured so deep into the forest on his nocturnal duties.  

_They must've been really desperate to have to come and live here…_

His eyes trailed to the ground.  The snow that had coated the forest floor in a thick, forbidding blanket of white was now about a foot deep, Severus noted with morbid realisation.  Yoshi, too, perhaps noticed the connection, for he stopped walking, and looked at him, his eyes trailing his face for any signs of discomfort.  There was a short silence, but then Yoshimitsu opened his mouth to speak…

"Severus?" 

"Yes," he replied, nonchalantly.

Another silence, slightly shorter than the last, in which he gained the impression that Yoshi was trying to work up to confess something – when suddenly…

"You wanted to die, didn't you?" he said.  Not a question. Merely a statement of fact.

The silence descended once again.  It fell thick like the blanket of snow on the forest floor, and for a moment, fell just as cold, and just as forbidding.  Severus started to turn away, but there was something…something that he just couldn't bring himself to do.  He couldn't push this away.  He could not bring himself to do it again.

Severus turned to Yoshimitsu and nodded silently, then carried on walking. 

Yoshi stood for a while, his long black hair fluttering in the breeze, watching his new-found friend stride ahead, smiling.  Little did Severus know how much that one nod was appreciated.  He allowed himself a small laugh.  

_He's something else alright…_

Bending down in the snow, he scooped up a small lump of the stuff and rolled it into a neat but deadly missile of ice, and with a wolfish grin, he trotted silently up behind Severus – then launched the snowball with all the force he could muster.

The missile hit the back of Severus's head with grim accuracy, exploding everywhere.  He reacted, as Yoshi had predicted by scooping up his own pile of snow – then returning the favour with interest. 

Soon the two were running with lightning speed, whacking each other with snowballs and each trying their hardest to outdo the other.  Yoshimitsu dancing through the tree trunks, throwing snowballs with inhuman grace and speed - and Severus ducking down and striking, always unexpectedly.  

Yoshimitsu seemed to win, however, because as Severus bade him farewell at the main doors of Hogwarts, he was wet-through and covered in melting snow.  They said their goodbyes and promised to see each other again.  Severus had no problems with that.  

He made to step through the threshold of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, when he heard a voice calling him back.  He poked his head round the door to see Yoshi standing at the opposite end of the small track, tossing a snowball nonchalantly from hand to hand.

"We're friends now, right?  I mean, I _have _seen you naked…"

Yoshi launched the snowball, and it hit the door with a hollow thud, perilously close to his head.  Severus glared good naturedly at Yoshimitsu and sighed.

"I'll take that as a yes.  See you later, Sarky!!!" he yelled, and ran back off into the forest.

************************************************************************************************************

Severus closed the door behind him and sighed, wondering what on earth he had gotten himself into.  Although he wasn't too worried.  All he wanted to do now was sleep…

_"And maybe something to eat," _he thought, as his stomach reminded him of how hungry he should have been.

Wearily, he made his way into the Great Hall, where gladly, there were only a few professors sitting at the high table upon the dias.  One of them being Albus Dumbledore…

"Severus!" Dumbledore exclaimed, rushing up to greet him, taking his hand and grasping it worriedly.

"Where _have_ you been?" asked Dumbledore.

Severus, suddenly greatful for his kindness, wanted to tell him everything.  He wanted to tell him about his episode in the forest, of how Yoshimitsu found him – or rather fell on him… About the den deep in the heart of the woods, and of Will and John and Claire and Coin. Of their kindness and hospitality and of their existence.

But he was a little tired, and didn't yet feel like giving away what was his…

"I had to get away…for a while," he mumbled.

The other professors nodded, notably professors McGonagall and Flitwick, but Dumbledore did not seem convinced.  The man could see through a brick wall.  However, he merely smiled at Severus, and motioned for him to sit down.

"Would you like something to eat?" he asked politely, after they had all taken up their seats at the table.

Severus smiled a little at the woodwork, being careful to keep his expression absolutely wooden.

"Have you got any rat?"

**Well, well, well. What a strange story. Severus?  A friend !? But don't worry. This is not the end.  There will be many, many more adventures to come, including missions to stop Voldemort and more angst.  In the next chapters, there will be much more revealed about these mysterious people hiding out in the Forbidden Forest.**

**I'll probably update either every week, or every two weeks, depending on how inspired I am, or how much of a stressful workload I have for exams  * shudders *.   **

**Did you like? If you did, please, please, please review.  If you didn't , review all the same. Although I don't really care either way for flames, constructive criticism would be better appreciated.**

**Thanks.**

**Ada Kensington.**


	3. Chapter Three

"Sarky"

by Ada Kensington

Author's Note:  This is sort of a prequel to "Order of Draconis." But don't bother reading that, as I'm going to totally revise that story and continue with it after I've finished with this one. Hopefully, this will fulfil its purpose in giving me a sense of direction with the Order of Draconis. As you may notice, in the first chapter, I've borrowed from the flashback scene of the first story, but altered it quite a bit. The credits for this still apply as to the Order of Draconis – but starting afresh, and all that jazz…  * sighs. * I actually own none of the characters in this chapter, now and future chapters. As in previous chapters, all you see and recognise as belonging to JK Rowling the Great, belongs to her. All the others you don't recognise – don't, aka Coin, William, John, Claire and Yoshi.  I wonder if you can guess where some of them are borrowed from.

After a rather average day, teaching average students, eating an average meal – whilst marking a pile of average homework – Severus Snape placed his quill down on the desk, and yawned quietly, stretching his long arms out in front of him.  He rose wearily from his chair, and began to stack up the various piles of parchment – the Slytherins gaining the highest marks as per usual.  The Gryffindors, in his opinion, had never really had a knack for potions.  They were just _far_ too boisterous and ignorant to appreciate what merit studying potions really had.  The Ravenclaws, understandably, gained high marks in his classes.  They were just too afraid to fail and disgrace the reputation of their house.  

He sneered slightly, and tied a neat loop with a smooth, sleek black ribbon to bind the sheets of parchment together.  The Hufflepuffs, well, there was never much hope there.  He smirked, and neatly squared up the bundles of homework and laid them on his desk.  Now, the Slytherins, however, seemed to have the innate ability, skill and patience to concoct a fairly effective potion…

Sighing heavily, and muttering dark remarks about the standard of the Gryffindor's work, he left the confines of his office, and started down the cold, dungeon corridor towards his quarters.  Upon reaching the green (decidedly Slytherin) dread portal door, which led to his bedroom, he whispered the password, and entered.

The room wasn't especially grandiose.  A low stone ceiling – characteristic of the dungeon rooms in which he spent his days – with mahogany coving skirting the lengths and breadths, and the draughty rafters stretching into the darkness - gave no real comfort or warmth.  An extremely old wardrobe held the few material possessions he had, namely clothes and a few other odds and ends, for he kept all of his working materials in his office.  A large forest green rug spread out to the corners of the room, stopping at the ornately carved fireplace – the only source of warmth in these cold surroundings, and bookshelf, upon bookshelf lined the walls from floor to ceiling, sporting all kinds of titles; "Advanced Charms" by Gertrude Flammble, "The Ogrion Theorem in Practise" by Vindictus Viridian, an extremely old copy of "A History of Magic" by Bathilda Bagshot and his own battered copy of "Most Potente Potions".  However, there were also a few of more questionable origin; "Summoning of the Shadow,"  "The Rise of the Dark Arts," various studies on the physical and mental effects of the Unforgivables - well thumbed through, and his own banned copy of "The Coming of Grindlewald."  

Next to the fireplace, sat a battered and frayed armchair, in the state it was through years and years of good use. Furnished, unlovingly, with only a stark mahogany writing desk and chair, which sat across from his shadowy four-poster bed.  Upon it, draped heavy black curtains, trimmed with green and silver – and the bedclothes much the same.

Trudging over the rug, he pointed his wand at the fireplace, muttered the charm, and with a muffled "whoomph," the fire sprang to life.  He walked, wearily to his bed, and after pulling his grey nightshirt off of the clothes hanger; he started to undress, unfastening his cloak from around his neck, letting it flutter down to the floor.  He unbuttoned his robes and let them slide off, replacing them with his long, grey nightshirt and climbed into bed – inserting himself between the silk sheets, and trying desperately to get comfortable.

It had been end of a long and ridiculous day after the end of a long and ridiculous week.  He wondered how Yoshi and the others were faring in their little home deep in the forest. 

_Must be near freezing out there… _he wondered idly, as he started to slowly drift off to sleep.  

***********************************************************************************************

Knock, knock, knock… 

Severus stirred and opened his eyes blearily.

"Who in the name of Merlin calls at this time in the morning," he muttered angrily, as he threw open the tie-backs of his bed and swung his legs over the edge, running a tired hand through his hair so that he didn't look too scruffy.

If this is another bed-wetting first year, I swear I'll make sure that this time, the whole common room knows about it…

Stalking over to the door, with his most fearful sneer lodged firmly into place, he irritably pulled back the bolts and locks of the door and threw it open with a bang – ready to scream at the student in question for disturbing his most needed rest…

But there was no-one there.

He poked his head out of the door, looking this way and that down the dark, forbidding – and above all – deserted corridor.  Not even a soul.  Puzzled, he listened for a few moments, trying to make out the sound of retreating footsteps, or muffled laughter, so that he could stride out and catch the perpetrator in the act  - and give them a year's worth of detention to boot.

But there was no one there. 

Furious, but also a little bewildered, he slammed shut the large, heavy door and forced down into place, all the locks and bolts, whirling around, exasperated, he started to march back to bed when…

BOO !!! 

A dark form, loomed out of the shadow, and with a yelp, Severus stumbled backward, tripping over the edge of the rug and crashing into the nearest bookshelf – which rocked ominously back and forth when he hit, books beginning to topple out of their places.  In one fluid motion, Severus reached for his wand, which he always kept inside his nightshirt, and pointed his wand at the fireplace, where flames suddenly erupted. 

The flames that began to dance happily in the fireplace, illuminated the face of one, Yoshimitsu, whose face wore an expression undecided on whether it should be amused or afraid.  Eventually, he just smiled sheepishly, and jogged over to where Severus Snape was sprawled on the floor; his face slightly red with anger, his greasy, black hair tousled, and surrounded by fallen books – and grasped his arm and pulled him up from the floor.  When Severus was again upright, he dusted himself off fastidiously, folded his arms, and then fixed Yoshimitsu with one of his most severe stares. 

"Well. I'm waiting," he said coldly.

Yoshi merely smiled at him, and spun round and headed for his bed, dancing over the soft, green carpet and bounced onto his bed, grinning happily.

"Nice bed, Sarky," he commented, busily fluffing up the pillows.

"I'm still waiting," Severus said, unmoving.

"…a whole lot better than the feeble pile of firewood that I have to call a bed…"

"…_Why are you HERE !?!"_ Severus yelled, raising his hands to the ceiling in exasperation.

"Why," said Yoshi, looking hurt, "I just wanted to see you.  I know that the last time I saw you I said tomorrow, but…but something came up that I had to deal with – so I couldn't come to visit you.  But I'm here now."

Severus sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging.

"I know," he said.  "I-I apologise. I shouldn't have yelled."

"Too right," Yoshi said finally, smiling a little.  "Now, what has Sarky been up to lately?" he intoned, shifting slightly on the bed to accommodate Severus.

Severus picked up the fallen books, slotting each one back into place, straightened the rug and trudged over to the bed where he slumped down into the mattress, staring blankly at the dark mahogany roof of the bed, and sighed.

"Treating some idiotic little first years to a dose of my namesake," he sneered.

At this comment, Yoshi laughed softly.  "Ah, the life of a teacher," he sighed.  "Full of happiness and fulfilment."

Severus snorted, and continued to stare at the overhanging darkness of the drapes above, and the conversation descended into silence.  For a moment, neither of them moved nor spoke. Severus still staring and Yoshi sitting hunched over on the bed, gazing absently at the roaring fireplace.

Then suddenly, Yoshi spoke – his soft voice filled with a quiet, and surprising tone of resentment – his gaze never leaving the fire. "It must be a lot better than my miserable existence.  I would have loved to have been a teacher…"

"…it's not all it's cracked up to be you know," Severus started, a little concerned at his friend's tone.  "The work is…"

"…but no," Yoshi overrode him.  "Born into the world of broken dreams.  The land of unfulfilled opportunity…"

Yoshimitsu trailed off, and turned to face Severus, who noted, with a slight sadness, the beginnings of tears shinning in his eyes.  

"I was born in the forest of the Manji, upon the slopes of Mount Fuji," he explained.  "Born a small tribe of highly trained, fighting thieves, we would systematically loot the reserves of wealthy bureaucrats and businesses – although never taking for ourselves.  It was our custom, since the days Master Mano, to distribute the wealth amongst the most needy.  So we would ride far and wide to hand out money and supplies to the peasantry of the country."

He smiled slightly.

"That part I didn't mind so much.  I was always glad of an excuse to get away from my grandfather."

"Your grandfather?" Severus enquired, inwardly seething with anger.

_If his grandfather was anywhere near as bad as my mother, then I pity him._

His suspicions were about to be confirmed.

"My grandfather, or Master Yoshihiro, as everyone had to address him, had never knowingly wanted anything to do with me at first," he sighed.  "My mother fell pregnant with me after a brief liaison with an unknown man.  My grandfather practically disowned her after he found out, as tradition frowned heavily upon unmarried women.  It still does.  However, being the daughter of the Master, he could not abandon her to ruin, and risk his 'oh-so-wonderful' reputation.  So he decided to let her stay, although under his tight control.  The very instant I was born, I was treated as a terrible burden by all of my known relatives and fellow Manji."  

Sneering slightly, he added:  "The graceful little bastard, they used to call me." 

"But my mother wouldn't tolerate it.  She was always the only one who would stand by me.  When I came home crying, not being able to take anymore, she was the only one who would comfort me.  And when I was born, she gave me Ose…" 

"Ose?" Severus asked.

Yoshi smiled and reached with one arm, back over his head, and smoothly pulled, a long, glittering blue-black blade out from it's sheath, Severus only now noticing how cunningly it had been concealed on his person - inwardly kicking himself for not noticing it earlier.  He laid the blade down carefully upon the bedspread, and ran his finger down its considerable length, and he jumped slightly as the blade crackled and sung, revelling in Yoshimitsu's soft touch.  

"Do you like it?" Yoshimitsu asked.  "She said my father left it for me."

"Yes," replied Severus, despite his true feelings. 

For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt a little uneasy in the presence of the blade.  As he gazed, his eyes fixed irreversibly upon it, he felt its presence piercing his inner soul, prying open the contents of his past – judging him.  As he beheld the blade, he realised, with the feeling of unease increasing, that it was no ordinary blade.  There was something about the blade.  Something ancient.  Something powerful.  A nameless wonder…

Severus was snapped out of his reverie as Yoshimitsu continued his purge of suppressed memory… 

"She died, mysteriously when I was around six years old.  Ever since then my grandfather entered me into exhaustive training, making me fight up to six hours a day, sometimes lecturing me, sometimes being a little more physical…"

Yoshimitsu did not have to elaborate for Severus to guess what kind of treatment he had received from his grandfather, as he had received the same himself.  The same abuse.  The same torment.  He placed a reassuring hand on the shoulder of his friend – empathising deeply – but at a complete loss as what to say.

"It was not until I was twelve years old that I displayed my powers openly.  Ever since I can remember, I was able to move objects around with telekinesis, and could apparate from the forest floor to the tops of trees through willpower alone – but I had always thought that _everyone_ was trained to develop their psychic ability…  But it turned out that I was wrong."

He smiled grimly, staring darkly into the fireplace.

"During the trials – those were the tests that every twelve year old child had to undertake to confirm whether they were of warrior class, or not," he explained.  "There was another boy, Tatsumaru, who everyone thought was destined to succeed my grandfather.  He was strong, powerfully spiritual for someone of his age, handsome and intelligent.  But his head was full of his own praise, and he was one of my most frequent tormentors in childhood.  Predictably, my grandfather had placed me in the ring, armed only with my fists, as I was forbidden to fight with Ose, and paired me with Tatsumaru, obviously wanting to publicly humiliate me through my potential loss against him…"

"Yes?" Severus prompted, a little unnerved by this sudden outpouring.

Yoshi turned round to face Severus, his face a mask of genuine bewilderment.

"I…I couldn't honestly tell you what happened," he said.  "He was just there – in front of me.  Smirking.  Mouthing insults at me.  I just wanted to show everyone that I wasn't just the "graceful little bastard" – that I could be something else.  Something good," he explained.  "My grandfather was just about to start the fight when…when he said something about my mother…"

His face darkened considerably, and Severus detected a hot flash of anger glittering in the eyes of Yoshimitsu.

"…and I just lost it," he said whispered.  "Something inside me just…snapped.  One minute he was there, smirking and sneering at me – insulting my mother's memory – and then the next, he was lying on the grass, not moving…" he trailed off, and suddenly – his eyes filling up with tears, he turned to face Severus, his beautiful green eyes filled with terrible grief and pain.

"I killed him, Severus.  I killed him.  Just like that.  And I've never been able to live with it.  Not ever," he said miserably.  

"My grandfather told me that there had never been such power in one since the Great Master Mano, himself – and he didn't seem to care about his beloved Tatsumaru's death – or that I had somehow caused it.  From that moment on, he only had eyes for me."

Abruptly, he turned his head again to the fireplace, not wanting to look Severus in the eye.

"But I didn't want his love.  I didn't want the love of one so shallow and driven with ambition and hate.  When I was fifteen years old, I ran away, ridden with fear and guilt with the fact that _I_ had killed Tatsumaru.  Taking all of my few belongings, some savings and Ose - I boarded a ship and went wherever it took me.  

"I travelled extensively over the years, finding work in several countries, and meeting with several people along the way.  Two of them being John and Will," he smiled now, dredging up more happy memories from the depths.

"Later, upon coming through France, I landed in Dover and came up to Scotland with John and Will after a little bit of trouble on the way with Monsieur You Know Who…"

_Voldemort…_

And it was in Hogsmeade that we met Claire and Coin – at Madame Rosmertas of all places…"

"Voldemort?" he said quietly.

"Yes, Voldemort," Yoshi laughed incredulously, clearly feeling better after speaking to Severus.  "You know, you really _are_ something else, Sarky, because I'd always thought that you wizards feared to speak his name…"

Yoshi trailed off upon seeing the look on his friend's face.  

It was always difficult to decipher what was hidden under the sneering façade of Severus Snape and the cold, malevolent indifference, which seemed to all but characterise the bitter Potions Master.  But sometimes, if you looked hard enough, you could get just a glimpse of what was hidden beneath the veneer.  

This time, it was his eyes that gave him away.  The cold, hard, black eyes, which usually glinted with malice and scorn, and his lips, more often than not, modelled for arrogance into a fearful sneer, effectively pushing those away who tried to make the effort to get closer, were replaced by a deadened, hollow gaze – staring blankly into memories long since gone – but certainly never forgotten.  His beautiful obsidian eyes filled with a terrible pain and regret - and what Yoshimitsu did not notice, was that his long, thin fingers, gracefully wrapped around his left forearm, were slowly tightening their grip.

"I'm guessing you've had your share of the Dark Lord too?" Yoshimitsu whispered in his soft, warm tone.  

_Share?  I've had more than my share of the Dark Lord._

"I don't want to talk about it," he snapped, turning away from Yoshimitsu, his arm now numb from the force of his grip.

He sat, rigid, staring hard at the fireplace, diverting all of his concentration onto the pretty, flickering flames which were dancing merrily in the hearth – squeezing his forearm crushingly in self loathing.

_I can't do this to him.  I can't bring him down with me.  I can't.  He's been hurt too much already…_

"Severus?" said Yoshi nervously from behind.

"_I don't want to talk about it!"_ he snarled, staring ferociously at the fireplace until he began to feel slightly dizzy.

"Fine," Yoshi said abruptly.

Severus felt Yoshi pushing himself up from his relaxed slouch upon the bed, grabbing his sword from atop the bedcovers, and heard his quick, light footsteps make for the door.  Severus didn't even turn round when, against all probability, he managed to open the large, heavy door with one soft click.  He still didn't stir when he heard his soft footsteps cross the threshold out of his door – and pause.

"I've never met anyone like you before, Severus.  But I think that I've found out where you're coming from.  I don't know what you've been through – and it must have been really terrible for you – and I can empathise with that, as you already know, I've been through many horrible experiences myself.  But I've turned out all right.  I've managed to forget the past, and try to live…"

"Easier said than done," he said numbly, still staring blankly into the depths of the fireplace.

"…I know that.  I've had to do it myself.  But that's no excuse to push me away.  I don't need shielding from the darkness.  I've come up against it, and won.  I know you have the strength, Severus.  Good night."

Severus heard Yoshi's footsteps begin to retreat down the corridor.  Something about Yoshi's words stirred in his heart, and deep down inside, something shattered.

_I know you have the strength…_

"Wait," he said hollowly.

Yoshi's light steps halted after only a few paces, and he quietly opened the door to see the gaunt silhouette of Severus Snape, still sitting up, rigid and cross legged upon the bed, the peaks and curves of his angular features softly illuminated by the flickering light of the fire.

"Yes?"

"I was a Death Eater," he said distantly.  "I served Voldemort for a number of years, killing and torturing Muggles and all those who defied the Dark Lord." 

He paused for a moment, stopping to catch his breath, seeming to be working up the courage to reveal what had lain hidden for years under his cold veneer…

"S-Something happened…my friend…Lily…she was killed.  By Voldemort.  A few years before the fall of the Dark Lord, I turned from him, and became a spy for Albus Dumbledore…"

A long pause followed, in which he heard Yoshimitsu re-enter the room, and place a hand softly upon his shoulder. 

He felt suddenly and idiotically grateful.  Grateful for all of the undeserved kindness Yoshimitsu had shown him over the past week.  For Merlin's sake, he hardly even knew him, and still he was treating him as an old friend.

"Great man, that Dumbledore…" Yoshi said.

"You know Albus Dumbledore?" Severus asked, surprised.

"No.  But Hagrid keeps telling me down the pub," Yoshi laughed.

"You know Hagrid!?" Severus asked incredulously.

"Yes.  He's one of the regulars at Rosmerta's," said Yoshi, smiling.

"Now, I'm going to have to go soon.  If I don't get back by the morning, people are going to be missing me…" he said, and Severus noted, with a touch of anxiety.

"Well…good night then," he said quietly.  "And th-thank you.  For everything."

"No problem, Sarky," he smiled, and for the second time that evening, he turned and made for the door, and for the second time that night, he turned round and came back in…

"Oh, yes!  I'm sorry. I'd totally forgotten," said Yoshi, turning round suddenly. "You are the Potions Master, right?"

"Yes…" he said suspiciously, narrowing his eyes slightly, knowing what was coming.

"Well, William had asked me to ask you to do us a little sevice…"

Severus sighed, his suspicions confirmed. 

"Well, alright.  What is it you want made?" he asked in exasperation, as it seemed that, no matter who he got to know, that he would always be destined to brew potions for them at some point in time.

"Errrrr…well…some poisons and a few other potions that maim and disfigure should do nicely."

Severus knew better than to ask any questions.

"Fine. They'll be ready soon," he answered – already forming a list in his mind.  Anything to drive him to distraction…

"Thanks," said Yoshi, cheerfully.  "See you later, Sarky," and with a blinding flash a light – he disappeared.

***********************************************************************************************  

It was very close to morning when Yoshi and left Severus's bedroom, and he had managed to catch measly few hours of sleep before the next day's grind.  He had climbed into bed, feeling more content than he had been since he could remember, and eternally grateful for the circumstances in which he had been presented with this strange and unlikely, but sound new friendship with Yoshimitsu.

He had extinguished the fire with a flick of his wand, and for the first time in years, he slept well.

**Ada Kensington.Well, well, well. What a strange story. Severus?  A friend !? But don't worry. This is not the end.  There will be many, many more adventures to come, including missions to stop Voldemort and more angst.  In the next chapters, there will be much more revealed about these mysterious people hiding out in the Forbidden Forest.**

**Ahh…poor, poor Yoshimitsu.  Yes, he is also an abused child.  And, no – I am not sadistic.  I just like torturing my characters to highlight the tragicness of Severus's tortured existence.  * Readers look puzzled:  But that _is_ Sadism *  Yes, I know, but It's really all about Severus, and I'm sorry if I went on for a little too long about Yoshi, but I felt that we needed to know a little bit more about him.  He's more like Severus than you would first think.  **

**Also, more details will be revealed on Will, John, Claire and Coin a little later – but perhaps not in so much detail as poor Yoshi there. * Hears readers sigh with relief. ***

**If you are wondering about Ose, yes, it was left to him by his father, and I've given small hints as to who this may be, and he may be included more in later chapters – depending on how the others go. **

**I'll probably update either every week, or every two weeks, depending on how inspired I am, or how much of a stressful workload I have for exams  * shudders *.   **

**Did you like? If you did, please, please, please review.  If you didn't, review all the same. Although I don't really care either way for flames, constructive criticism would be better appreciated.**

**Thanks.**


End file.
